by Unknown
As they exited the SUV, the front door of the house opened and one of the men from the bar last night stood framed in the doorway.
“Sheriff.” The man’s gaze flicked to Finn and then back again. “What do you need?”
“I’d like to ask about a friend of yours,” Keira said as they approached the porch. “May we come in?”
In answer, Bielefeld stepped outside, closing the door behind him. “Here is fine.” His parka was unzipped. Either he had just gotten in the house or was just getting ready to leave it.
Finn scanned the area to their right. The nearest building—the one with the vehicles parked outside it—was a hundred yards away. Its rolling front door was shut. A thin thread of smoke plumed from a metal chimney on the roof. The window on the left side looked as though it was open.
“I got a lot of friends.” Bielefeld’s tone wasn’t particularly congenial. “Who you looking for?”
“Charlie Abernathy.”
It was hard to miss the flicker of surprise in the man’s expression. It was followed swiftly by wariness. “What about him?”
“His mother filed a missing person’s report this morning.” Keira rested her foot on the first of the sagging steps. “When did you last speak to him?”
“Hell, I don’t know.” Bielefeld shrugged. “A month or more, probably.”
“A month, huh. What did the two of you talk about?”
He looked bored. “How the hell am I supposed to remember that long ago? Maybe had a beer together. Sometimes he drops by after I finish for the day and we have a drink or two.”
“Because as a parolee you wouldn’t want to be seen in a bar.”
Finn stifled a grin at Keira’s pointed remark. The man seemed unfazed. “That’s right. Wasn’t my idea to go to Dizzy’s last night. I wasn’t driving.”
“As part of your parole you’re also supposed to avoid keeping company with felons.”
Belatedly Bielefeld adopted a contrite attitude. “You’re right. Absolutely. It won’t happen again, Sheriff. I’ve been keeping my nose clean since getting out. The last thing I want to do is mess up.”
“So what can you tell me about Abernathy?”
“Charlie?” The man seemed confused by the change of subject. “He’s just a guy I see sometimes. I don’t know that much about him.”
“You have to talk about something over those beers you share.”
The wind was chilly despite the bright sunshine. When it flipped a red-gold strand of hair across Keira’s face, she pushed it away with an impatient gesture. The temperature hadn’t topped twenty yet today. Finn detested stocking hats, but he was probably going to have to break down and buy one while he was here.
“We just bullshitted about sports mostly. Women.”
“Yeah?” Keira seemed impervious to the cold. Her voice was conversational. “Was Charlie seeing someone?”
“Not since that last broad dumped him. That Peck bitch—gal,” he amended. “You might check with her. I know Charlie still talked about her.”
Several more minutes of questioning elicited no new information, so finally Keira and Finn turned back toward the SUV. Halfway to the vehicle Finn saw a flash and stopped, tipping his sunglasses down to stare hard in the direction of the glare.
“What?”
“In back of his workshop,” he said in a low voice as she came to his side. “To the left. Looks like the sun bouncing off something metal. A bumper, maybe.”
They exchanged a glance. “Let’s check it out.” They swerved and began walking in the direction of the building.
“Hey. Hey!” Bielefeld shouted. “Where you going?”
“Just taking a look around.”
“What the hell?” Finn shot the man a look over his shoulder. He was hurrying down the porch steps after them. “You can’t just roam around my property without my permission.”
“Whose cars are parked in front of that building?”
“The pick-up’s mine.” Bielefeld had lost his earlier semi-cooperative attitude. His tone now was downright surly. “The van belongs to a guy who helps in my shop.”
“What’s his name?”
While Keira began questioning the man again, Finn walked past the building to get a better look at whatever was hidden behind it. He heard, “Where the hell is he going?” as he walked around the rear corner of the structure and took a long look at the vehicle parked there.
“Sheriff.” Keira was already heading toward him, with Bielefeld on her heels. “Looks like Connie Abernathy’s car.” His gaze shifted to the other man. “Maybe you’d like to revise your story about not seeing Charlie in the last month. Because there’s no snow on this vehicle. When’s the last time it snowed, Sheriff?”
“Four days ago.” Keira leveled Pete with a long look. “Did you have a memory lapse?”
“Honest to God, I got no idea what it’s doing there.” He tried for a baffled expression. Failed miserably to Finn’s way of thinking. “I mean, maybe he’s hiding out somewhere. He owes a lot of people around the county, I hear. Might have stashed it there last night or the night before.”
“And then walked back to town?” Keira took the handcuffs off her belt. “Turn around. Hands behind your back.”
“What the fuck. No. Hell no.” Pete took a long step back. Then another. “I don’t have a fucking idea why that idiot hid his car back there, but it don’t got nothing to do with me.”
“And you’ll have time to explain all of that. In detail. Hands behind your back.”
The man turned and ran. A dumbass move, but not an altogether unexpected one. Keira sprang after him, but Finn was faster. He chased the man down halfway to Keira’s SUV and tackled him. They rolled, and when Finn was on top he barely had time to duck Bielefeld’s meaty fist. He grabbed the man’s arm and used his grip to leverage him over. “You just get smarter and smarter.” With a knee pressed to Bielefeld’s back, he kept him prone while Keira reached their side and handcuffed him. Finn took a few moments to search the man, coming up with a wallet, a wicked looking knife from a belt at his at his waist, and a video monitor in the man’s coat pocket, much like the type used in baby’s rooms. He handed the knife to Keira and jammed the other two items in his pockets before rising and hauling the ex-con to his feet.
“I want a fucking lawyer.” Bielefeld was yelling now. “I know my goddamn rights and you can’t come on my property to harass me.”
With her hand on his bound wrists, Keira propelled him forward. Finn opened the rear passenger door on the SUV, and she ushered the man inside, then closed and locked the door. “And this is the reason my father refused to drive a vehicle without a cage in the back,” she muttered. She opened the rear hatch and took out some evidence bags, dropping the knife in one. Finn handed her the wallet and monitor, which she stopped to study for a moment. “From the view on here it looks like he’s got the camera mounted just inside the drive. I didn’t notice it.” She shook her head in disgust and placed it into another bag before checking the contents of the man’s wallet.
“Neither did I, but that’s not surprising with all the trees and brush out there.” Finn stared down the drive. The road wasn’t visible. A windbreak stretched across the property in the front and the drive was equally sheltered. “Man’s either paranoid or he has something to hide.” He paused a beat. “There’s an open window on the side of the building.”
Keira looked at him. “Ventilation?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. Could be for fumes from paint or varnish. Or maybe something else.”
She rocked back on her heels a little. “We have Abernathy’s vehicle hidden on the property of an ex-con, who has obviously lied about seeing the man. Looks like exigent circumstances to me.”
“Abernathy might be in imminent danger,” Finn agreed. Ignoring the obscenities hurled from inside the SUV, he and Keira drew their weapons simultaneously. As one, they approached the nearest building. With her free hand, she gestured a count of three and pulled
the handle. The door glided open with surprising ease. Finn had a moment to register the stench coming from the structure before they flanked the opening and aimed inside.
“Sheriff! Hands in the air! In the air!”
“Fuck!”
Squinting in the shadows, Finn peered into the building. Two long metal tables were set up side by side with a line strung overhead from which portable lights hung. The first table served as a makeshift counter and was topped with three hotplates. A man and woman in surgical masks stood side-by-side tending to pressure cookers.
“Use one finger to turn off the burners.” Keira went no further than the doorway. Finn understood why. What had at first seemed like the overwhelming smell of cat urine was likely from meth being cooked. The material was highly explosive if mishandled. And the two standing before them didn’t look exactly reliable. “Do it now!”
The flames from the burners were abruptly extinguished. “Now on your bellies, hands behind your head.”
“This ain’t our shit,” the woman said. “Us being here don’t mean…”
“Shut the fuck up, Chrissy,” the man barked. She subsided into a sullen silence and got down on her knees.
Finn could see now that two more windows dotted the rear wall, with another on the right side. Black shades hung over the openings, but they moved in the wind. The reason for airing out the building was clear.
“I’ve got FlexiCuffs in the back of the vehicle.” Keira reached into her pocket with her free hand and gave Finn the keys. Swiftly he went back and retrieved several pair of the cuffs and returned, keeping a sharp eye out for a third person. Neither of the two currently hugging the broken cement floor in the outbuilding was Charlie Abernathy. While Keira held the weapon on the two prisoners and used the radio on her belt to call for backup, Finn holstered his gun and secured their hands. Then he patted the two down. Neither had a weapon on them. Nor did they have any ID.
“I’ve got to get them out of here.”
Finn helped Keira get the two to their feet and walk them to the vehicle.
“Look, if we tell you what you want to know, does that count in our favor?” the woman asked.
“Goddamn it, Chrissy, shut the fuck up!”
Keira pulled the man further away when he would have lunged at the woman. “I’ll make sure the prosecutor knows that you cooperated.”
“I don’t wanna go to jail!” Chrissy screeched. “I got kids.”
“I will fucking kill you, bitch.”
“Shut up,” Keira advised him in a steely voice. “You really want me to add making a criminal threat to your charges?”
Finn asked Chrissy, “Where’s Charlie Abernathy?”
“Sleeping.” She tossed her head at the man’s murderous glare. “Inside there.”
Without a word Finn walked back to the shed. There was only one possible place where Abernathy could be, and it was in the partitioned area they hadn’t searched yet.
Finn stood in the doorway of the structure and took another careful look around. Against the far wall was a large stainless steel sink standing under an old-fashioned farmhouse pump. Two propane tanks and several empty water jugs sat beneath one of the tables. His gaze lingered on the tanks. The brass valves were corroded. They were likely used to transport anhydrous ammonia.
The extra table was littered with chemicals, rubber gloves, strainers, funnels, lithium batteries, and blenders. This wasn’t a small-scale operation. While not super lab capacity, Bielefeld’s setup would at least make him the largest meth manufacturer in the area.
Six-foot tall wooden shelves partitioned the interior from the left third of the structure. The racks were filled with enough tools to suggest that Bielefeld actually might do some carpentry work. They stretched from the back of the building to the front, with only an opening the size of a doorway. From where he stood, it looked like there might be a workshop of sorts behind them.
There was no light spilling from the space. The dim interior was softened only by the cast off glow of the bulbs strung over the cooking table. Finn moved further inside and realized that the shelves were double sided. Most were filled to overflowing with lumber, hardware and more tools. The one closest to him was stocked with baggies of various sizes. He picked one up and peered at the powder in it. Bielefeld had a large stockpile of product.
There were several large saws in the space set up on tables. He set the baggie back down on the shelf and surveyed the area. A few large pieces of furniture, in various stages of completion, were scattered about.
His gaze went to the window, the one he’d first noticed when checking out Abernathy’s vehicle. From the way the dark blind moved he knew he’d been correct earlier. It was open to ventilate the structure. With good reason. The entire building smelled like a mixture of chemicals, rotten eggs, and urine. Which explained the masks the couple had worn.
There was a slight sound. Finn stilled, his ears straining. He didn’t hear the noise again. He moved deeper into the space, dodging the scattered furnishings and caught sight of something in the corner. A jumble of blankets.
Tension radiated along his shoulders. He drew his gun again as he approached the area in question. As he moved closer, he could see the edge of a mattress on the floor beneath the covers. His sight was obscured by a large half-finished entertainment center.
Walking around the item, he caught movement from the corner of his eye. He heard the scream of a power saw. He leaped away. The saw went silent but sailed through the air to slam against his ribs. Finn stumbled. His assailant used the opportunity to dodge past him, darting around a tall cupboard.
Gulping in a breath, Finn raced after the suspect, holstering his weapon as he made a grab for a stocking clad foot as it was disappearing through the window. The man kicked wildly, managing to slip out of his sock. Finn lost no time tearing out of the building and around its corner, shouting to Keira, “There’s a third one.”
He got a closer view as he sped toward the car parked behind the building. Abernathy—and the man he saw through the window fit Charlie’s description—was inside the vehicle doing a frantic search. Keys. He must not have them. Finn nearly tripped over something buried in the snow and realized the ground was littered with junk beneath the drifts. When the man looked up and caught sight of him, he threw himself across the seat to climb out the opposite side. Finn was there before he rounded the opened door.
Unlike Bielefeld, Charlie didn’t run when cornered. He launched himself at Finn, and they both went down hard, slamming against the front bumper as they grappled before rolling in the snow in front of the vehicle. The man bucked wildly beneath him, dislodging him and crawling a few feet away. After a moment, Abernathy turned and reared back with something in his fist.
Breathing hard, Finn pulled his gun. “I advise against it.” Charlie hesitated, then lowered his hand, dropping what looked to be a large metal gear of some type. He wiped the blood from his face. Feeling the telltale trickle crawling down the side of his head, Finn knew he was bleeding, too.
“Charlie Abernathy?”
“Yeah,” the guy muttered.
“I’m happy to inform you that you’re under arrest.” Finn blinked rapidly. One eye was already swelling, impairing his vision. “On your feet, hands on your head.” As they walked toward where Keira waited with the other two, Finn could hear the distant sounds of sirens growing closer by the instant, which was handy, because they were going to need more handcuffs.
Keira’s eyes widened when they walked into view.
“Our missing person is found.”
The look she gave Finn was touched with concern. “You need to see a doctor.”
Now that the rush of adrenaline was ebbing, a litany of aches was beginning to make themselves known, with a drilling headache vying for first place. “As it happens, I am a doctor. Something tells me you’re not going to make the commissioner’s board meeting.”
“Forgot all about that. I’ll be tied up here for hours. I’ve rad
ioed for an UPSET team. That’s the drug task force that serves our county. Once the place is photographed and inventoried a Hazmat team will have to take over.”
“How ’bout me? I need a doctor, too.” Abernathy’s voice was truculent. A few days’ growth of patchy whiskers covered his face. “This guy tried to kill me. I’m gonna file charges.”
“You do that,” she said unsympathetically. “In the meantime, assume the position against the side of the vehicle.”
“I need my other sock. My shoes and coat. Christ, it’s colder ’n a witch’s tit out here.” As he griped, he turned toward the SUV and spread his arms and feet to lean against the left side of it.
“Your mother reported you missing this morning, Abernathy.” Finn gingerly touched his left eye, which felt swollen. “How long have you been here?”
“Pete wouldn’t let me leave.”
“And why is that?”
The man’s answer was lost as two cruisers sped into the yard, sirens wailing. Pitching her voice over the racket, Keira said, “I’ll have one of the deputies take you and Abernathy to the clinic.” She pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket and handed it to him.
Finn didn’t reach for it. “Abernathy can go. I’m fine.”
With an ungentle touch, she pressed the tissue against his forehead. “You look fine with that gash on your head. And you need ice on your eye to keep it from swelling shut.”
He reached down and scooped up a handful of snow, pressed it to his eye and managed to avoid wincing at the contact. “I’ll be all right.”
“Yeah, you will,” she said, turning as her deputies approached. “Because you’re going to get medical treatment.”
_______
Finn wondered how many men had successfully out-stubborned Keira Saxon. He’d had a lot of time to consider the question while he waited in an exam room at the clinic he’d most definitively said he didn’t want to go to. Brody Boyle had waited in another room with Abernathy whose bitching had been loud enough to drift into Finn’s room.
The doctor was a type he’d never been impressed by. With a sarcastic demeanor glazed with ego, Dr. King had been competent, if not especially compassionate. Once he’d learned that Finn had no intentions of spilling details about Abernathy’s arrest, he’d said little else, ignoring Finn’s suggestions for butterfly bandages and stitching up his head with more speed than dexterity. After checking his eye and ribs, King had offered the brusque suggestion that he apply ice to both. The entire visit had been as worthless as Finn had imagined it would be, and by the time he’d left the waiting area with the deputy and prisoner his mood had soured dramatically.